


It's Not About The Sweater

by Saintduma



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Explicit Sexual Content, FrostIron - Freeform, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Teenager!Fandral, Teenager!Loki, Teenager!Tony, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saintduma/pseuds/Saintduma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on not-safe-for-earth's Texts from S.H.I.E.L.D. post, which can be found here:</p>
<p>
  <a href="http://not-safe-for-earth.tumblr.com/post/63222075431/texts-from-s-h-i-e-l-d">(310:) "Hey, I took a sweater from your house.  And, um, your little brother's virginity."</a>
</p>
<p>This is marked as 'underage' because Loki is 16 and Tony is 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. but I don't know what it's about yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chimaera42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaera42/gifts).



_Hey, I took a sweater from your house. And, um, your little brother’s virginity._

Tony admitted that he could have phrased the text better. Maybe not buried the lead, maybe not made Thor’s little brother’s virginity of lesser importance, by way of syntax, than a borrowed pullover sweater-- even if the sweater looked better on Tony than it ever had on Thor. 

Yeah. Tony could have phrased it better.

Then again, Thor could have told him that his little brother was home, and ridiculously hot, and maybe Loki could have mentioned he was a virgin before they were naked and past the point of no return-- 

There really was blame to go around. Really.

\-----------------

The island that Thor and Tony’s parents had summer houses on was a very exclusive place. It was not professionally managed, but the rules of the island had been established many generations ago, by the very wealthy people who had bought the first plots of beautiful land. 

The first week, the young adults were alone. They partied hard, they wrecked inconsequential things, and everything was cleaned up. Then the adults arrived with the children. The children bonded into groups, the children’s groups were subtly scheduled away from the adults and the college-aged kids, and the parties could continue in rounds circuiting the island, forging and reinforcing the social alliances along generations of wealth. This was how Tony’s parents had grown up, and how Thor and his parents had grown up. 

Tony had skipped the child-packs. He’d opted instead for science camps and programs at the world’s most prestigious schools that kept him away from the island except for a week here and there.

But it was summer break, and Tony’s first year of college. Thor had broken his laptop again, just before they left the university, and Tony had fixed it, and thought he was going to just drop it off at Thor’s place, which was supposed to be empty, because Thor was out with Sif tonight on a date. 

He deposited the laptop case on the kitchen counter, and was about to let himself out the back, where his red and gold Veyron was parked, when a voice froze him in place.

“You’re Tony Stark.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow, and turned slowly back towards the kitchen. Being recognized was not an uncommon thing. He’d made the cover of TIME at age twelve. 

“Yeah, and you’re...” his eyes swept up over the visitor, and raised his eyebrows. He recognized him, sure, but the adopted younger brother of Thor was... different, than Tony remembered him. 

Very different. 

Loki stood straight, his hair tied high on the back of his head but more than long enough to brush his shoulderblades still. His features had sharpened, and those clever green eyes had gotten sharper, less trusting. Wary. It settled like a challenge on those angular features, and with the added length to his body, plus the way his very recognizable high school uniform hugged his thighs, Tony realized Little Loki had grown up. A lot. How old was he now-- sixteen? Seventeen?

“Loki,” he finished. “I didn’t realize you went to Alexandria Prep.”

“I didn’t realize you came to the island,” Loki replied, his tone reserved. “You stated your distaste for ‘wasting your summers’ pretty vehemently.” 

Tony shrugged. “I’ll probably take off in a couple weeks. Got an opportunity for some field development research coming up I’m thinking of taking. What school of A-Prep you in? Art? Theology?” Loki had always struck him as the artistic, woo-woo type. 

“Quantum Harnessing,” Loki replied, earning another raised eyebrow from Tony.

“Crowleyism? Abrahamic?” Tony knew he was being insulting now, because Loki’s expression showed it clearly, his jaw tightening.

“Particle Assimilation,” he replied, his tone tense. Tony looked genuinely surprised.

“They didn’t have that when I went there.”

“Your work incorporating quantum patterning into energy source manipulation was a direct precursor to the creation of the specialization.” 

“Not just at A-Prep,” Tony grinned. 

“Are you here to brag, or did you have an actual reason to be here?” Loki looked tired, and annoyed, as he unshouldered his bag, putting it down beside what was clearly his school luggage. He turned away from Tony and unbuttoned his school blazer, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it over the back of a chair. 

“Just here to brag. I was here to drop off Thor’s laptop, but this is so much more fun.”

“Spare me. You’re still insufferable.” Loki was unbuttoning his shirt now, still facing away from Tony, and Tony was finding fewer and fewer reasons to leave. Loki was lean, smooth-skinned, and gorgeous. He was also scowling at him. Tony liked challenges. 

“Then why don’t you tell me about you,” he replied, leaning forward on the breakfast bar and switching tactics. “You’ve got to be first generation for that specialty. How did you end up in it?” 

Loki toed his shoes off and looked at Tony with suspicion. “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to go swimming, take a shower, and read until dawn. Chatting with you about how I ended up in a program that exists because of you, simply to feed your ego, isn’t in those plans.”

“What if I swam with you?” Tony straightened, and pulled his shirt off, balling it in his hands and giving Loki a roguish smile. 

Loki looked him over, his face unreadable, and he shrugged. 

“Fine.” 

Tony had to admit surprise; Loki had always been standoffish, as far as he could remember, so acquiescing to such a request was-- unusual, at the least. But he didn’t let it settle too long on his expression; he shrugged, and kicked his shoes off under the breakfast table, and started to take his pants off. He could swim in his boxers. 

It was apparently what Loki was planning to do; he pulled his belt out of the loops and left it with his shoes, and began walking to the side door, where the saltwater pool stretched in gentle undulations out under a weeping ash. Blue stone landscaping ceded to japanese gardens, so that the pool looked as much like a pond as it did a curated pool. Loki left his uniform trousers over a chair and pulled his socks off, balancing easily as he did. He looked back at Tony, who tucked his socks into his shoes and walked barefoot out onto the blue stone.

There was a moment where Loki seemed to be thinking of saying something, and then clearly decided against it. Instead, Tony had the pleasure of watching that lithe body dive into the clear water, and with strong, even strokes, cross to the other side, and surface. Loki tossed that thick black hair from his face where it had come loose from the ponytail and looked back at Tony. That look was a challenge. 

Tony took it. He ran up to the edge, tucked himself into a ball, and made the biggest splash he could. He floated for a moment in the deep water, and paddled his way to the surface, grinning at Loki as he shook his hair out of his face. 

Loki looked unamused. 

“I couldn’t help it,” Tony said, as if protesting that expression. “No way I could do the graceful dive thing.” 

“You could have helped it just fine,” Loki replied in a growl, and began to pull himself up out of the pool, but Tony grabbed his arm and pulled him back in. 

“Okay, okay,” the young genius said. “I’m sorry. I just went with the impulse. I won’t be such a fucker. Tell me how you got into Particle Assimilation.”

Loki glowered at him for a moment longer, and then turned onto his back, beginning to lazily backstroke across the pool. Tony swam after him, on his front, not needing to speak, and showing his willingness to listen by choosing that stroke; his mouth was covered every so often with water, which meant he had to be quiet. Loki noticed, or decided to have mercy on him, Tony wasn’t sure which. 

“I knew I would be in Quantum Harnessing. Mother noticed when I was young that I was predisposed and I have been displaying concretely since I was two and a half. There was never a question, really. I’ve been tutored by quantic manipulators since preschool.”

“I know that,” Tony replied, and headed for the weeping ash, the tips of its branches creating a canopy over part of the pool. He’d wanted to make out with someone under there for years. He was really looking forward to this opportunity. He gave a roguish grin and dove under, and then parted the branches just a little, peeking out at Loki. “Come in here and tell me why Particle Assimiliation.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but smirked as he slipped between the branches with Tony. “Because no one else in Harnessing understood the science,” he replied, his long fingers brushing over Tony’s hip lightly. “And if you could understand the... magic... enough to pull it off in the first place, without an _ounce_ of potential, then I decided, I would learn the science enough to bridge that gap from our side.” 

Tony pulled Loki’s hips against his own in the water, grinning up at him. Loki’s lips were parted slightly, looking at Tony through those exquisite lashes, a flush on those sharp cheekbones. Tony could feel Loki’s cock swelling through the thin fabric of their boxers, to match Tony’s own arousal, and it seemed Loki wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Tony took one of them in his hand, and applied his lips to the center of his palm, sucking the salt water off, and moving slowly to suck at the mound under his thumb. He let his lower lip drag for just a moment, keeping his eyes on Loki’s as he did. Loki’s cock was very swollen against his shorts. 

“Should we take this inside or...?” 

“Yes,” Loki whispered, his voice hoarse. “Yes.” 

Tony kissed his palm lightly, and slowly released Loki’s hips, letting him drift in the water for a moment as he twisted and pulled himself out of the pool. He turned, and helped Loki out, grasping his forearm and helping him to lift out of the water. The lithe teenager didn’t actually need the help; it was an excuse to touch him, and no more. He ran his hand up to Loki’s bicep and squeezed, leaning forward to press his lips, light and hot, to his cheek, before he headed for the summer house. He let his hand fall, and felt a leap of triumph as Loki caught his fingers. 

“Let me get some stuff out of my car,” Tony murmured, squeezing Loki’s fingers. “Rinse off, I’ll meet you upstairs?” He smiled, and Loki just nodded, that flush on his cheeks still. Loki squeezed his hand once more before disappearing into the house. 

Tony ducked into his car, grabbed what he called his ‘kit’ from under the Veyron’s passenger side seat, and headed inside. He spotted Loki’s school blazer and decided he wanted to see him in it-- otherwise naked. 

He padded up the stairs, the blazer carefully hooked on one finger, the ‘kit’-- a small red zip-closed leather case-- in the other hand. He heard the shower running off of one of the bedrooms, and headed in. This was definitely Loki’s room. It was brimming with books, the bed cover was dark green, and to Tony’s surprise, he recognized an old, much-loved white stuffed animal crammed into one of the bookshelves. It was missing an eye, and was partially threadbare along its back left leg, but Tony’s memory supplied it, once two-eyed and fluffier, under Loki’s arm as he screamed at Tony and Thor for pushing him off a trampoline when he was five and they were seven. He was pretty sure it had once been a dog or wolf or something. 

He laid the blazer over the back of Loki’s desk chair, tossed the red kit onto the bed, and walked into the bathroom, depositing his wet boxers onto the tile beside Loki’s just as Loki stepped out, his skin steaming slightly from the heat of the water. 

Loki looked like he was considering saying something again, but wasn’t certain if he should. Tony put his hand on Loki’s chest, just over his heart, and leaned up to kiss his bottom lip, a light brush of mouths. Teasing. It was a kiss that worked well on people taller than Tony-- and honestly, most people were. He wasn’t tall for a guy. 

Tony stepped into the shower, rinsing off quickly. He thought about bringing himself to orgasm in the shower, so he could suck and fingerfuck Loki until he was begging for it, but he didn’t. He wanted Loki too badly to do that, and drag it out too far. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towelling himself off, Loki had pulled the bedcover off, and was sprawled, one leg straight, the other knee raised, wearing that damn blazer open over his pale chest. Displayed like that against gold sheets, Tony wished, for a moment, he’d come in the shower. He was not going to last with this gorgeous creature. 

“You read my mind,” he smiled as he climbed onto the bed, pressing a kiss to Loki’s thigh just above his knee, his hand running down the other leg, on the outside, not too invasive yet. 

“You’re a pervert,” Loki purred, blushing again and pushing himself up into a sitting position, that wet black hair sticking to his neck and soaking into the collar of the blazer. 

“I am,” Tony replied, grinning at him as he kissed a little further up Loki’s thigh. “You sure you want to do this?” He ran his fingers over the inside of that thigh, still not too high. Intimate, but giving him distance. Giving him an out, if he wanted it. 

“Yes,” Loki replied, closing the distance between their faces by pulling Tony’s head closer to his own, and pushing a kiss on Tony’s lips that was harder than the young genius expected. “Now don’t ask me again.” 

That might be a problem. Tony liked to ask, to talk, to reassure and be reassured, while fucking. He was told he was a pretty attentive lover, and for a college freshman, well, that was damned good. Tony liked to fuck. One of his first fucks had been a cougar, who had encouraged him to ask, to give his lover the opportunity to say yes, or no, or harder, or-- whatever, really. It had been a fun enough weekend that he’d implemented it with the next girl, and that had gone over well, and, well...

“You’re the boss,” Tony said, smiling in such a way that it was clear he wanted to eat his boss alive right about now. He kissed Loki again, happy to feel his tongue, and to taste his mouth as his hips circled slowly against Loki’s, teasing both of their cocks back to attention. 

Loki made it clear when he had enough of that. He broke their kiss, and hissed against Tony’s skin. “Stop teasing and stretch me.” 

Well. He certainly thought he was the boss, didn’t he? Tony didn’t mind. The faster he got Loki relaxed, the faster he got to be inside him. And that was the end goal. He opened the red case and pulled out his favorite lubricant, and began by dumping quite a bit onto his hand, coating his fingers and finding Loki’s opening, circling it for a moment before sliding a single finger in. 

It was easier than Tony expected, and despite that, the sound that came out of Loki surprised him as well. It was clear from how easily he could move his finger inside of him that Loki played with inserting things-- but Tony wasn’t sure, from that moan, if anyone had ever done it _for_ him before. 

He wasn’t going to ask. Not right now. Instead, he pushed another finger in, slowly, working it gently, and then used the divot between his fingers to pour more lubricant inside of Loki. 

Tony liked anal, with whatever gender was in front of him at the moment. And he had a reputation to uphold at being good at it.

Loki’s face was turned towards his arm, eyes shut, black hair sticking to his neck. The blazer covered one of his nipples in this pose, but the other was hard, and Tony took the opportunity to lean over and run his tongue over it as his fingers turned slowly inside of Loki, trying to relax him enough to get a third finger in. He was tight, but pliable, and that nipple hardened more against his tongue. He nipped, very lightly, and was rewarded with a gasp, and Loki’s cock twitching against Tony’s abdomen. 

Ah, there it was. A third finger. He pushed more lubricant inside of him, wanting him wet enough that he wouldn’t have to pause and reapply. His free hand searched inside the red case for a moment and found a condom. He raised it to Loki’s mouth, pressing the foil against his lower lip.

“Bite,” he whispered, and Loki did, giving Tony the purchase to tear it open. He pulled the condom out and twisted his fingers inside Loki once more, spreading his fingers against those muscles to test once more before he slid them out. Loki gave a whimper, lifting his hips slightly, as Tony’s fingers ghosted up over Loki’s erection, circling the very pink tip, and the precome there. Then he left Loki unattended for just a moment, sliding the condom over his cock. He checked it by running his hand over himself, and gave a satisfied sound. 

Loki was looking down his body at him, those green eyes bright with need, his thighs spreading slightly more, inviting him. Tony put his hands under Loki’s hips, squeezing his ass lightly, and pushed the tip of himself against that wanting ring of muscle. It was slow at first, because he didn’t want to hurt him, and every so often Loki’s hips would buck slightly, and his muscles contract. Tony would slow at those moments, his fingers finding Loki’s cock to slowly stroke him until he relaxed again, and then continued to push, until he was as deep as he could get. He looked down at Loki then, his face buried against the sleeve of his school blazer again, those pink lips parted and panting. 

_Don’t ask again._ He took a breath, and began to move. It was incremental at first, barely half an inch, just rocking with Loki’s hips, getting him used to the feeling of Tony’s hips moving. Loki gave a slight humming sound, and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, one of his eyeteeth pressing into the flesh of his lower lip. Tony pinched Loki’s exposed, hard nipple, and was rewarded with a sound from deep in the pale teenager’s chest and a slight buck of his hips. 

He could feel Loki’s hips tilting slightly to one side under his hands, and he adjusted his angle slightly, and went back to moving. He was rewarded instantly with a moan that came from deep in Loki’s chest, and with that encouragement his thrusts deepened, over an inch with each return, and Loki’s thighs were tightening around his hips. One of Loki’s hands came down, wrapping around himself as he buried his face against his sleeve more, trying to muffle his moans as the tip of Tony’s cock hit his gland. The pace of Loki’s hand on himself wasn’t slow; he wasn’t trying to last. 

So Tony sped up. He lifted Loki’s hips slightly, so he could, and kept that angle, his strokes short and hard and fast, trying to drive him over the edge. Loki tightened inside as a response-- his head pulled back from his sleeve, eyes closed tightly, his back arching, which meant Tony had to change his angle again, but he kept going-- and Loki was tightening again-- those moans, god, those moans, Tony wanted to swallow them whole, they were fucking amazing-- 

And then Loki was coming, splattering his blazer sleeve with seed, and his body was so tight inside, gripping Tony with every stroke-- Tony kept moving, and Loki was still arching and moaning, come still dribbling from the tip of his cock--

Tony came, gasping, barely able to find his voice. “Lo, Loki,” he managed, looking down at Loki, those pale thighs shaking on either side of his hips. He could feel the condom washing his come around the tip of his cock, and even as his cock began to soften, Loki felt so fucking good inside. 

The black-haired teenager had his face buried in his sleeve still, and they were both panting. Tony stayed, still, leaning forward on his hands on either side of Loki’s hips to support himself, not pulling out quite yet. After a moment, he leaned forward, and kissed the side of Loki’s mouth, gently. Loki’s head turned, just a little, and he returned, with an almost chaste kiss of his own. 

Tony pulled himself out of Loki, slowly, and pulled the condom off, dropping it in the little trash beside the bed. He found a tissue and started to clean Loki, but Loki took it, and wiped himself slightly, and, shaky still, began to stand. 

“Just-- going to rinse off,” he panted. 

Tony watched him head for the bathroom, and knew, somehow, he wasn’t welcome to join him. “I...”

“You can go,” Loki whispered, leaning on the door frame. “You can go.” 

Tony was still for a moment, processing. Loki was rejecting him. 

“Loki, I--”

“You got what you came for, Stark,” Loki snapped. “You’ve got your trophy. Now go.”

Well. That made it pretty clear. Loki didn’t need to spell it out for him. He felt a surge of anger, and managed to get off the bed. He tossed the lubricant into his case and headed for the stairs, stomping down them. He pulled his pants on, and his t-shirt, in the kitchen, and threw his shoes in the Veyron. The convertible top was down, and when he realized how cold it was, he thought about putting it up-- but fuck it. 

Instead, he stalked back into the house, went to the coat closet, and grabbed one of Thor’s old hoodies. Loki was just going to have to deal with the fact that Tony had been there-- that it had happened-- he would have to deal with seeing Tony in Thor’s hoodie, until Tony decided to give it back-- 

He got into the car, turned the key, and gunned it down the driveway. 

And when he pulled over, two miles down the road, to wipe the wetness from his eyes, he texted Thor. Loki was just going to have to deal. 

He’d just have to deal. 

They’d-- they’d both just-- have to deal.


	2. and i don't think he knows either

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has words with Tony about his well-worded text, and Tony tries to drink himself better, but gets a surprise visitor.

“Tell me he wasn’t just another fuck, Tony.”

“He wasn’t just another fuck. Well-- he-- not to me, Thor! But I don’t know, with him.”

Thor had his arms crossed over his broad chest, and glowered out over the beach grass towards the ocean, leaning against his vintage Mustang. It was entirely too early in the morning, but neither he nor Thor had slept that night. Tony, because he just couldn’t, and Thor, because he’d gotten that damned text just as he was leaving Sif’s, and called Tony, furious. 

_Hey, I took a sweater from your house. And, um, your little brother’s virginity._ Seriously. Could Tony have phrased it any worse? But Thor was starting-- a little-- to understand. 

“It was-- I mean, I’ve been thrown out of beds before, usually because someone’s boyfriend was coming home, but--”

“I’m still trying to not be mad at you for taking my little brother’s virginity, Tony.”

“It was not a one-way street, buddy,” Tony said. “I didn’t go in and pillage him or some shit--”

“You have a reputation,” Thor growled. “You are absolutely a-- a-- a love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“I was not the one leaving,” Tony snapped. “He booted me. We’d barely--”

“I don’t need details.”

It was cold. The sun had only barely made it up over the horizon, and the wind blew in from the ocean, which didn’t warm them at all. Tony huddled in Thor’s old sweater, pulling the zipper up more against it. They were silent, watching the beach grass writhe and twist under the crisp wind. 

“Who else have you told?” Thor asked.

“No one. You know I don’t brag about sex.”

“No, you rely on others to do that for you.” 

It was true, and Tony didn’t argue. 

“You will not tell anyone about Loki,” Thor continued. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He looked up at Thor, at that angry face, and hoped his friend would believe him. He didn’t see that, in his face. He just saw angry. “I wasn’t. You can believe whatever you want, Thor, but I’m telling you, I don’t have anything to brag about when it comes to last night. So you don’t have anything to worry about.” 

“I will hold you to that,” Thor said. He stood straight, and headed for the driver’s side of the carefully restored Mustang. “Not a word.”

“Not a word, big guy,” Tony sighed, as Thor turned the engine over, and roared off. 

\-------------

There was a party at Barton’s that night, but even when Tony woke up that evening, he didn’t really feel like going. He knew Clint would expect him, and sure enough when about ten p.m. rolled around, and almost everyone was there, he had a text from Clint, asking why he wasn’t there yet. 

Instead he sat on the back porch of his parents’ summer house-- no, his now, he was eighteen, after all-- and watched the ocean. He wished he could explain this weird melancholy, but he was now three fingers of scotch into having no feasible explanation. He hadn’t wanted anything more than sex from Loki, so why had being kicked out felt so much like rejection? He’d tried really hard to make it really good sex-- especially once he figured out Loki hadn’t actually had sex before. He was still reasonably sure he was the very first person to have any kind of sex with Loki, not just-- penetrative. There was just-- the way Loki had behaved-- but Loki didn’t act like the last virgin Tony had. Or, for that matter, the last not-virgin. He didn’t act like anyone did with Tony. Most at least wanted to cuddle, or nap, or talk-- Loki had just wanted him to leave.

Tony was certain he hadn’t done anything _wrong_. He’d been gentle, and made sure Loki enjoyed himself, and there was no way in hell Loki _hadn’t_ enjoyed himself-- 

“Is there a reason you’re avoiding Barton’s party?” 

Tony jerked, and he twisted in his chair, looking up at the eyes of the teenager that was torturing his thoughts at the moment. Tony made a face, and relaxed back into his chair, glad he hadn’t spilled his scotch. 

“Don’t feel like partying,” he grumbled. 

“Oh, don’t look so fucking _sore_ ,” Loki sighed, and perched himself on the arm of the next chair, so he was clearly in Tony’s sight. “Really. That can’t be the first time you’ve been kicked out of someone’s bed.”

“First time it wasn’t because of encroaching boyfriends or parents or roommates. First time it’s been because the lay was an ungrateful fuck,” he snapped, and regretted it, because Loki went very still, and Tony knew the nature of what had just come out of his mouth was itself really, really screwed up. The rest of the scotch went down his throat, hot and chastising. He sat up, and looked at Loki, opening his mouth to apologize, to correct his indecency. 

“An ungrateful fuck,” Loki hissed, cutting him off. “Should all of your ‘lays’ be grateful to you, Tony Stark? Should we all worship you for what you did for us, relieving us of the burden of having never slept with you? You’ve alleviated such a weight for us, surely we should placate your ego with excuses to be rid of you, rather than simply because we want to be _alone_ \--”

“Tha’s not it at all,” Tony slurred slightly, his cheeks red with drink and embarrassment. “No, no. That was fucked up of me to say. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry because you know it was fucked up or because I’m mad about it?” snapped Loki. 

“Sorry because it was really fucked up,” Tony replied. “I was mad. I _am_ mad. I didn’t just fuck you because I wanted your virginity as a prize, Loki. I wanted you because you’re fucking gorgeous and I wanted you. That’s it. Whole story. You don’t owe me anything, especially not gratitude, that was really fucked up of me to say, I mean really fucked up, I’m sorry.” 

Loki was still very still on the edge of the other chair, legs spread, elbows on his knees. His hands were clasped in front of him. He looked restive, not hunched, and thoughtful. 

“Have you ever had anyone-- fuck you?” he asked. 

Tony blinked at him, confused by the topic change.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I’m... I’m kind of a slut, Loki. If body parts are going in holes I’m pretty much all for it.” 

Tony wasn’t sure if it was the scotch, but Loki looked slightly disappointed by this. Disappointed, but not-- dissuaded. 

“Sober up,” Loki said, and stood, too fucking elegant, in Tony’s opinion. Painfully elegant. “You have until two to be sober enough to drive back to my house. I won’t fuck you drunk.” He turned, and Tony heard him retreat along the deck to the front of the house. 

He sat, still parsing this, until he heard Loki’s Jaguar purr out of the drive. 

His first reaction was to fill his glass, get drunk enough he couldn’t find anything in his own house but the bathroom and possibly the floor, and ignore that haughty fuck, because who the fuck was _he_ to tell him he wouldn’t fuck him drunk. 

But Tony didn’t fill his glass. He went back into his house, put the glass in the dishwasher, and filled a cup of water. He gulped the entire thing down, and headed for the shower. He was going to be as clean as possible-- he didn’t want anything at all giving Loki hesitance. That smug bastard wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of Tony leaving tonight-- if Tony had any say about it at all. 

He had plenty of time to think in the shower, cleaning himself out-- human asses didn’t naturally come so clean as he intended to be-- not that he really wanted to think as much as he had the time to, now. 

Loki was easily unlike anyone he’d ever fucked, simply by virtue of being so intense. He knew exactly what he wanted, and if Tony wanted to be the one to give it to him, he’d have to do it on Loki’s terms. Normally, that would never, ever fly with Tony-- he hadn’t practically made a study on sex to be told to shut up by a virgin with issues making eye contact-- but--

\-- But what? He paused, as he turned the shower off, and stood, dripping, in the glass-enclosed rain shower, thinking. What made Loki so goddamn worth it? Why the hell was he so willing to jump for sobriety at the beck and call of a sixteen-year-old who was probably going to tell him to shut up and then inexpertly stab at his ass with his erection until Tony took control? 

Tony knew that wasn’t how it was going to go down, though. How he knew, he honestly could not say. It was-- an instinct. He was looking forward to this because something in him knew it was going to be good. He looked down his body, and scowled at his own slowly growing erection. It was what, quarter to eleven? If he came now he’d last longer with Loki. Conceivably. 

He padded out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself off in front of the long, tall mirror on top of the double vanity. The custom coating on it meant that it de-fogged quickly, and Tony smirked at himself as his reflection began to appear. One thing he never suffered from was drunk-dick. His cock was standing proudly at attention, and he ran his towel through his short hair once more before focusing his eyes back on his cock, wrapping his hand around it slowly. 

He imagined Loki’s long fingers, like when he’d started to touch himself while Tony fucked him. But instead of going straight to _as hard as he could_ , they started slow. He imagined Loki looking up at him with those long, dark lashes, fingers moving over his wet cock in long, languid pulls. Asking Tony if he liked it, Loki touching him like this, if it was what he wanted--

Tony fumbled for the lotion on the smooth stone vanity, dragging it towards himself and drizzling it over his cock on his open palm, exhaling harshly as the cool liquid made contact with the sensitive skin of his dick. Coolness didn’t take him away from the thought of Loki at all. Now, in his head, he was running ice cubes on the inside of Loki’s thigh, his eyes travelling up Loki’s body to meet those bright green eyes, the shudder of Loki’s voice echoed through his entire body as he shivered with expectation--

He gave a muffled cry, covering his palm with hot come and gripping the edge of the vanity to keep himself standing. 

That was why he was so damned upset about Loki kicking him out last night. He _wanted_ him, bad. He wanted him for weeks on end, wanted every inch of his body, wanted Loki to want him back. It didn’t make any fucking sense at all, because that was _not_ the kind of man Tony was, but it seemed clear enough in the moment. 

It took a few minutes to be able to stand without wavering still, but he managed to clean himself off with his towel, and dumped it in the laundry chute, heading for his bedroom. He needed to be even more sober than this to drive, especially the Veyron. He got a water bottle out of his mini fridge and tossed the contents back in a few gulps, tossing it in a bin and pulling on a pair of his favorite jeans-- he had at least ten pairs of these, because they felt and looked so good on him-- without boxers. He didn’t intend to do much more than get right out of them again, so why bother with underwear? It wasn’t like he was going on a hike. A black t-shirt from Queen’s 1975 tour and Tony was-- well, dressed, but still not sober enough.

In the kitchen, he tossed back another bottle of water-- this one ‘electrolyte-fortified’, according to the label-- and a cup of coffee with cream, no sugar, though he knew coffee didn’t actually sober him up. The caffeine just made him feel more alert. A glass of orange juice and he found some hard boiled eggs, which he cut in half and ate with a spoon rather than bothering to try to peel. Somewhere in there he managed to turn on his music in the house, which was now blasting Riders on the Storm, and though the night was clear and gorgeous, the moodiness was really working out for him. He half-sung along and ate the other egg, starting to feel really amped up despite the mellowness of the Doors. 

Redemption felt good. Chances at redemption felt better.

Finally, after half an hour of grazing on the protein-intense contents of his refrigerator, he decided he was sober enough to drive the Veyron. He brushed his teeth, hummed appreciatively at his reflection, and checked to make sure he had his red case before sliding into the driver’s seat of the machine. 

_Yes,_ he thought as the engine purred to life. _No way in hell he’ll want me to leave tonight._


	3. but we could figure it out if we tried

“It’s kind of overwhelming,” Loki admitted. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be so much. It was never a... a problem, before.” 

Tony pushed a strand of that shiny black hair from Loki’s cheek, and ran his thumb over his jaw. He pressed his lips gently against Loki’s, and lingered only as Loki returned it, before giving him room to speak again. 

“I didn’t know it could be a problem with quantics,” Tony replied gently. “Is it-- sensory overload, or...?”

“Sort of,” Loki murmured, and sought another gentle kiss, which Tony gave easily. They were curled together on the couch, Tony stretched out on the bottom, Loki half-folded on him, his limbs already slightly longer than Tony’s. Tony liked that, he decided, his fingers twining together with Loki’s as they kissed. “Less-- senses, more-- sense. That... awareness of possibility that quantics talk about? Try overloading that sense. It’s sort of like that.” 

“We don’t have to do anything that’s going to overwhelm you,” Tony soothed. “I want you to set the pace.” 

“I want to do this,” Loki replied, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position on Tony’s hips and looking down at him, some of that gorgeous hair falling in his face again. “Just... be patient with me?” 

“Of course. You set the pace.” Tony sat up as well, putting his hand on Loki’s hip as he stole another brief kiss. He didn’t mind repeating himself with Loki. It was reassuring, not repeating, to him. Besides-- Tony might have a reputation, but part of that reputation was that he was worth having, even if his attentions wandered. Maybe it was the fact that Loki smelled like raw, dark chocolate and blackberries, and Tony wanted to taste every inch of him, but Tony could easily imagine this being at least a summer-long affair. Especially if they were going at a nice, easy pace. His mouth had moved from Loki’s mouth to his neck, placing light, slightly sucking kisses down that pale skin, pulling his shirt to the side--

“Upstairs,” Loki panted quietly. “Come on.” 

It was hard to not rip his clothes off as soon as the door was closed, but Tony had to keep himself together. He was not going to scare Loki off again. This was going to be intense-- probably more so than last night, but hopefully much better. Tony was glad he was sober for this. Tossing his red case on the bed, he pulled his own shirt off, dropping it beside the door frame, and put his hands on Loki’s lower back, coaxing him closer for another kiss-- this one hungrier, more demanding. His hands began to move up Loki’s back, gathering the fabric of Loki’s tshirt. When Loki gave a little gasp for air, Tony smiled, and carefully pulled Loki’s shirt up and off of him, careful of his face, and swept that thick black hair out of Loki’s face again, to press a firm kiss on his lower lip. 

“You are incorrigible,” Loki purred, smiling.

“I do my best to be,” Tony admitted, his fingers circling Loki’s waistband lightly. “May I?” He really didn’t want this to go like last time-- Loki telling him to shut up, and not feeling like it was alright to talk, to ask, to check in. Those things were important to Tony. He was trying to start early this time-- to get Loki into a rhythm of ask and response, those thousands of opportunities to ask for and give consent. Tony liked a clear ‘yes’. Yes meant go, meant safe, meant good. Tony was all about good sex. 

“You first.” Loki smirked a little as he said it, and let his long fingers run down over Tony’s arms as he stepped away. 

“Looking for a show?” Tony grinned, undoing the button of his jeans and turning around, unzipping his fly slowly and looking coyly over his shoulder at Loki. Apparently the distance was too much for Loki, because the teenager took a step in, putting his hands on Tony’s hips and slowly pushing down. The heat of Loki’s chest against his back was so good. He tilted his head back and kissed just below Loki’s earlobe as those long fingers pushed his jeans down over his thighs. They paused, skimming up over Tony’s thighs, and Tony heard Loki give a little huff of breath as Loki’s fingers ran experimentally over Tony’s slowly growing erection.

Tony was glad he’d gotten himself off earlier. He wanted Loki so fucking bad right now, but he could keep his shit in check. It would be harder to go slow if he hadn’t thought ahead of time. 

He leaned against Loki, letting the teenager touch him, kissing that spot under his ear still. Loki was bolder now, squeezing him, pulling slightly, and then letting his fingers wander, circling the tip of him, and down, to caress his balls. Feeling the differences, Tony knew, between himself and his lover, like he had with his first man. There was only so much to be gained from briefly waving your dick around in the high school locker; Tony had wanted to explore. He was letting Loki. 

He could feel Loki’s erection against his ass, and knew he’d lost his patience when Loki pulled away, and pushed Tony towards the bed, just gold sheets and pillows. 

“Prepare yourself,” Loki commanded, his voice slightly rough. “I want to see you do it.” 

Tony grinned at that, and climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees, presenting his ass to the room and Loki. He opened his case and pulled his lube out, but Loki was moving, and he pressed a different bottle in his hand. “Use mine,” he whispered. Tony wasn’t going to argue. He popped the cap open, and for a moment got that curious scent of Loki again-- blackberries and bitter chocolate-- but when he actually inhaled, there was no smell to it. He put a generous amount on his fingers, and, adjusting himself so his weight was on his knees and one elbow, he slid two fingers into himself, pushing a generous amount of lubricant inside of his ass. 

He heard Loki give a low sound, and Tony could see him leaning against one of the bed posts, naked. “You stretched yourself for me?”

“I want you,” Tony replied, his voice rough with exactly that want, as he fucked himself slowly with those two fingers. He’d be able to get a third in soon. 

“I want to-- to feel,” Loki whispered. Tony pulled his fingers out, slowly, and handed Loki the bottle. He heard the cap open, and then snap shut, and one of Loki’s fingers circled the edge of his ass, probably exactly the way he played with himself. Loki playing with his ass. Tony was very, very glad he’d gotten himself off earlier. 

Two heavily lubricated fingers slid inside of him, and Tony gave a low ‘yesssss’ as they twisted inside of him, spreading against the walls of his ass, and pumped gently. 

“Another?” Tony nodded, trying to find his voice again, and failing to as Loki withdrew his fingers slightly, and pushed three in, pushing plenty of lubricant into Tony’s ass. Loki was definitely used to playing with himself-- he pumped those fingers slowly, feeling how relaxed Tony was, and moved them inside of Tony, searching for-- and finding, as Tony gasped-- Tony’s prostate. 

“Can we-- I want to, now--” Loki’s voice was uncertain, but full of raw need, as his long fingers stroked against Tony’s gland. 

“Like-- this?” Tony panted. “Or, or another position?”

“I want to see your face,” Loki replied, and-- reluctantly, it seemed-- pulled his fingers out of Tony. 

Tony was glad. He wasn’t entirely certain he could keep himself on all fours with Loki fucking him. Even if Loki was clumsy-- which, at this point, Tony doubted he would be-- it was going to be hard to do anything complicated. He lowered his body to the cool sheets, and rolled onto his back, spreading his legs like Loki had for him the night before, inviting him. 

Loki was applying more lube to his cock, and Tony realized he wasn’t wearing a condom. 

“In my case-- do you want me to open one for you?” he asked.

“No,” Loki replied. “I want to feel you. Just you.” 

“Loki--”

“I’m clean, you’re clean, stop worrying,” Loki cut him off, leaning forward over Tony’s body and pressing a kiss on his lower lip. “You don’t trust me?”

Tony didn’t know if he trusted Loki, but Tony was clean, as of the test he got less than a week ago, and he doubted Loki would lie about this. 

“It’s not bad, with a condom.” He switched tactics. 

“Please,” Loki murmured against his skin, his fingers running lightly over Tony’s cock. Tony gave a light moan, and-- well. What was one time, with a virgin only he had ever touched?

“I’m breaking my rule for you,” he assented, putting his hand on Loki’s cheek and kissing him fully, deeply. He could feel Loki’s painfully erect cock rubbing slightly against his own as they kissed, and was glad, for a moment, he’d given in. He hadn’t gone bareback with a man, ever. Was it very different?

He raised his hips as Loki broke the kiss and drew back. He could feel Loki’s fingers lining them up, assuring himself, and then-- oh. Ah, he had not forgotten how amazing that heat felt inside of him. He was glad he’d cleaned up, and stretched, and _very_ glad he’d come a few hours ago, because-- as Loki pushed into him-- he was very quickly making up his mind that he wanted this to be at least a summer-long tryst. 

Loki took his time getting all the way inside of him-- savoring the feeling, Tony knew-- and Tony didn’t mind a bit. When he could feel Loki all the way inside of him, he took a deep breath and exhaled, looking up at the green-eyed teenager. 

Loki’s cheeks were deeply flushed, and his lips were parted, panting. He looked so wanton, so in need-- Tony was glad he hadn’t fought harder over the condom. He looked like he was in heaven. 

Surprisingly, Loki lowered himself, so he was laying on Tony, so his face was only slightly lower than Tony’s. Tony pulled a pillow up under his head and tilted his face forward, so he could kiss Loki, taste briefly that fleeting bitter chocolate, and then just Loki, that wonderful taste of Loki, who wrapped his arms up around Tony now, one hand under Tony’s head, the other under his neck, giving up much of his control over the situation with his pose. Tony adjusted his legs, so Loki still had the angle to thrust, and ended the kiss with another little peck, trying to encourage him to move. 

He knew how intense this was. It was plenty intense for him. 

“Tony,” Loki panted slightly.

“It’s okay,” Tony soothed. “Whenever you’re ready. Whenever you can.” 

There was no way Loki was kicking him out tonight. 

It was almost a full minute before Loki finally managed to start to move. It was slow at first, just feeling, but it didn’t take long for his hips to increase pace. 

For Tony’s part, he didn’t want this to ever stop. Loki was well-shaped to almost perfectly hit his prostate with every thrust into him, and when he didn’t hit him perfectly it still felt so fucking _good_. He had a lot to learn about rhythm, but the more they fucked, the more Loki would figure it out. And it was starting to sort itself out already-- Loki’s hips had hit a stride, suddenly, and they made eye contact, Loki’s brows raised and pushed together with those pretty, perfect lips open in a slight ‘oh’, and Tony was certain his expression was probably pretty close. 

One of his hands found Loki’s hip, encouraging his movements, and the other found its way between them, wrapping around his cock. Slick with lubricant from preparing himself and from Loki rubbing against him briefly, he began to work at his cock, because there was no way Loki was going to-- was going to make it--

“Tony,” Loki moaned.

“Yes.” His hand moved faster over himself--

Loki was flooding him with seed, he could feel it, hot and fluid being pushed inside of him as Loki’s hips bucked his cock against his prostate, and Tony felt _dirty_ in a completely amazing way that he couldn’t begin to articulate, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. Loki’s mouth was a perfect ‘O’ as he finished inside of Tony, and Tony was gasping, so close to coming himself--

Loki spilled the last of himself in Tony, and he was quickly dissolving into bonelessness as Tony finally came, splattering their chests. 

\-------------

Tony didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Loki stirred in his arms, yawning. There was nothing at all comfortable about waking up to this; his arm was asleep, he was sticky and chilly, and while Loki had curled up next to him, no longer inside of him, the feeling of lube and come in his ass was not something he was loving, after the moment. He blinked at Loki, who was apparently deciding something similar at his side. 

“How long has it been?” Loki murmured, nuzzling Tony’s shoulder. 

“How should I... oh,” his eyes found the clock on the shelf facing him. “It’s three AM. We slept about two hours, I think.” 

“Mmmm,” Loki replied, and began to stretch that pale, beautiful body beside him. Tony’s eyes moved down over it, and-- damn, he was pretty. A curl of triumph hit with his appreciation of that body and he leaned forward to kiss Loki’s lips lightly. Loki returned the kiss, a gentle nip of his lips, and focused those green eyes on Tony. “Shower?”

“Please.”

They peeled themselves off of the gold sheets-- Tony was glad it was the topsheet, because he didn’t want to sleep on spunk and lube-- and headed for the bathroom. Loki pulled him directly into the shower stall with him, and they were drenched under the double shower heads instantly. Tony shook water out of his face and kissed Loki again, making the young quantic manipulator laugh quietly-- a velvety sound-- and return the kiss. It was lazy, and pleased. Loki seemed more than a little happy with how this had turned out. 

Tony had managed to get himself and Loki fairly clean-- in between slowly heating up kisses-- and was helping Loki towel off with one of his gold-edged black towels when he noticed an equation on the quickly defogging mirror. 

“What’s this? It’s brilliant.” he asked, kissing Loki’s shoulder.

“Oh,” the pale-skinned teenager said with a smile. “You’ll recognize it better...” he swiped a finger over the mirror, and a second equation appeared above the first. Tony did recognize this one; it was his own. It was a particle theory, in an equation, but he hadn’t found a proof yet. Seeing it, and the way Loki had broken it down-- he could see why it would have taken a quantic manipulator to see it from this angle. It was really quite brilliant. He could run a proof this way. 

He also recognized the smell that came off of Loki, briefly, when he used the little bit of-- for lack of a more accurate term-- magic. Blackberries and bitter chocolate.

“You’ve been spelling me,” he said quietly. He knew ‘spelling’ was negative slang-- it reduced Loki to a hedgewitch, or some stupid ‘wiccan’ teenage girl-- but he was angry. “Your lube, insisting we go bareback, even kissing me downstairs-- you’re fucking spelling me.” He took a step away from Loki, because if he didn’t, he might shove him.

“Tony--” Loki turned, panic written on his face as clear as day. It was the only admission of guilt Tony needed.

“You couldn’t be bothered to trust me. You couldn’t actually talk to me, couldn’t bring yourself to ask me-- try to see if maybe, just maybe, if you asked-- maybe I wouldn’t go or fuck around for the summer or something--”

“No, Tony--”

“It’s a binding spell, Loki, you think I haven’t had someone try it before?” He was still calling it a ‘spell’, because the derogatory made Loki wince, and Tony was furious. 

“Well of course but it’s not--” 

“Fuck you,” Tony growled, and he stalked out of the bathroom, grabbing his jeans and pulling them up over his hips. 

“Tony, listen, it’s binding work, yes--”

“Just shut up, I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses--” he pulled Thor’s hoodie on, not bothering to even find his shirt, and grabbed his case, stomping towards the stairs.

“You need to be bound--”

“I said SHUT UP,” Tony roared, slamming the front door hard enough to make the glass shake, but Loki pushed it open after him anyway as Tony jumped into the front seat of the Veyron.

“Tony this is for your own good--”

But Tony gunned the engine, cutting Loki off, and turned the car around, pointing it down the drive. 

“Tony, I can’t let you leave--”

Tony hit the gas, and for a moment, the Veyron didn’t go anywhere, which was incredibly confusing. He hit the gas again, hearing the engine respond, and looked behind him-- the rear of the car was lifted, just a few inches, off of the ground, and Loki’s face was contorted in concentration. 

“LET ME GO!”

Tony watched as one of Loki’s nostrils started to bleed. Loki was still naked except for a towel around his waist, and his expression did not change. He had one hand out, pointed at the back of the car, and the fact that Loki was keeping a four-thousand pound car half-suspended in the air was insane. But at least the concentration was keeping him from talking. Tony might be impressed, but he was still furious. Both sides of Loki’s nose were bleeding now, as Tony gunned the Veyron again, and he turned forward, keeping his eyes aside, and barely noticed Loki suddenly disappearing in his rearview mirror as he hit the gas again, the tires made contact with the pavement, and he was gone, down the driveway. 

He did notice Loki sprawled out on the stone patio as he turned the corner, and something in his chest admonished him for leaving Loki like that-- vulnerable, alone, clearly needing to communicate something to him-- but he was too angry at being the subject of a goddamn _love spell_. 

Tony kept driving.


	4. and we'll try so hard, won't we

Three days later, Loki was curled up in Tony’s t-shirt on the far end of the couch from his brother. He had a mug of tea, and wasn’t making eye contact with his brother, or his adopted parents. It was very quiet. Loki had just woken up again; that kind of warping of particles was insanely taxing. Frigg had brushed his hair and Thor had made his brother a single slice of wheat toast with butter, which Loki hadn’t yet been able to finish. It was balance on the arm of the couch, only half-eaten.

Thor spoke first.

“Tony went to Afghanistan.” He sat forward a little, folding his hands. “Left yesterday morning without talking to anyone. I had to find out from Obadiah.”

Loki closed his eyes and made a pained sound. 

“Loki, he left you unconscious--” Frigg began.

“I know what happened,” Loki snapped, and regretted it, seeing Frigg frown, and blink. 

“Then what happened?” Odin’s question was not to be dodged. Loki couldn’t if he wanted to. Odin was himself a powerful quantic manipulator; it was one of the reasons they had all they did, materially speaking. Odin’s power, and Frigg’s foresight.

“When-- when I slept with him-- the first night. I saw-- like you see, Mother-- his ribbon being frayed, parts being cut-- I kicked him out because it was overwhelming, it hasn’t happened since... since Balder.” 

The room was quiet. Loki wasn’t the only one in the room who had seen Balder’s ‘ribbon’ fray and be cut. They had all tried to stop it, once Loki and Frigg had seen it. Loki had been a child. Nothing anyone had done helped. Balder had died at their old house in Maine, the one they sold after finding Balder, lips still smeared in the poisonous berry he’d eaten, under a Daphne shrub. 

“I had to try to keep him here, where he would be safe,” Loki whispered, shaking off the memory of feeling his brother’s ribbon fraying. “It wasn’t affection-working. I just needed-- I was trying to bind him to the island. I was trying to bind him to safety. And I don’t know what took because it was only half-finished.”

“Loki,” Frigg said quietly. “You’ve never done sex working before--”

“It’s just math,” Loki replied. “Math and will. I could have kept him safe. And now he’s in Afghanistan. Fucking... Afghanistan.” He covered his face. 

“Shit,” Thor swore under his breath. “And I was just worried he’d brag about you.”

\--------------------------

“You can’t hide forever.”

Thor’s voice, though quiet, was an unwelcome interruption to Loki’s solitude. 

“I wasn’t asking your permission to,” Loki replied, scathing. It had been eight days since Tony had left him unconscious, in a towel, on his patio; five days since Tony had gotten to Afghanistan, and Loki had woken. The two were entwined, in Loki’s head, but he didn’t say that out loud. 

“Either way you don’t have it,” Thor said, and sat beside his little brother, cross-legged on the blue stone under the weeping ash. Loki sat against the trunk, his bare feet straight out in front of him, holding Tony’s shirt still. He hadn’t let it go. He glared at his brother. The ash tree was his safe space. Thor had always left him alone under there. Even when they were kids. It was part of why he’d been so willing to do anything with Tony-- Tony, who had gravitated naturally to Loki’s safe space. 

Omen divination was not something Loki had ever trusted. But personal indications-- things like Tony unknowingly choosing Loki’s safe space to come on to him-- quantic manipulators couldn’t help but see them, sometimes. See them, and respond to them. Even Thor understood. Loki knew his brother understood. Thor was not nearly the quantic manipulator Loki was, or Frigg or Odin, but everyone who could feel the energy in the particles of the universe knew what that sense of order from chaos was. And maybe Thor only felt it in storms, channeling raw storm energy, but Thor knew. Loki didn’t have to explain himself. Maybe Tony would have to, but Loki would never have to explain himself to Thor. Not when it came to _knowing_ things the way only quantic manipulators did.

“I hate feeling helpless,” Loki said at last. Thor had been quiet too long, had let his brother come around to say his mind. “I hate knowing he’s in danger, being unable to feel anything outside of--” he held up the shirt, and let it fall into his lap again. “Bare threads. I know nothing. I feel so little. There’s nothing I can do. I failed. I _failed._ ” The way he said it-- the way his face changed, so he looked like he might retch at the thought of his failure-- he hated it. He had a great personal stake in this, and he failed anyway.

Thor was quiet, but not the same sort of quiet as before. Before, he’d been waiting, patient, still, letting his brother negotiate his emotions until he could articulate. Now, he fidgeted, and Loki could tell when his adopted brother was trying to decide if he should tell him something. 

“Out with it,” Loki snapped, but it wasn’t as harsh. Just-- prompting. 

“Mom hasn’t let the cleaners have the sheet,” Thor said. “The topsheet. If you want-- something more-- strong than a bit of Tony’s sweat and one of his t-shirts.” 

Loki’s eyes snapped up to Thor’s face, emerald eyes examining, wondering, curious. 

“She put it in the cold room in the basement,” Thor said. “In a plastic box. It’s the one labeled ‘weaving-ugly yarn’.”

Loki was pushing himself to his feet, when Thor caught his hand, making his pause, and look down at his older brother.

“Do it right,” Thor said, quietly. “Keep him safe. Bring him home.” 

Maybe Thor didn’t have all of the ‘senses’ Loki had, or the head for science and math he’d worked so hard to attain. But he was smart. And Loki trusted him. 

He would always trust his brother.

\-----------------------

The sheet was precisely where Thor had said it would be, and he brought it up into his room. He thought of locking the door, but this was probably going to be quantic working that was... of significant enough power that he might require medical attention when it was over. If it worked. Or even if it didn’t. A subtle binding like the one he’d tried to do to Tony was-- significant, but Tony had been a willing participant, and emotion and fluid and intention had all fed into the quantic manipulation he had been attempting. It had been so close to working. 

The car, on the other hand-- simple, but a huge exertion. With no preparation and nothing but his own focus and will to keep it in the air, it was no wonder he’d kept it still for barely a minute. He could get a train off its tracks, running in midair, if he had the time to prepare himself and the train. It was a shameful performance, that night, but... he’d been emotional. That hadn’t helped in that instance.

There would be no mistakes today.

He sat on the edge of his bed, and held the gold sheet in his hands. Already he could feel the remnants of the work he’d done that night on it, moving through the fabric, itching to be completed, or amplified, or used. Unfinished intention. Quanta were energy. He’d put them into motion in a specific pattern, but hadn’t been able to complete the pattern. It was trying to self-complete, but without Tony-- without Loki-- it had to be altered. It had to be rerouted. It had worked, the binding, but only so much. 

The fabric of the sheet was only slightly stained from that night. He saw most of the stains as he ran the gold fibers through his left hand, organizing, in his head, exactly what he was going to do. Exactly how he would reach through these dozens of tiny connections to Tony, and draw him back, wrap him in safety, get him out of that dangerous place. Keep his ribbon from fraying.

It was cool against his skin, as he unfurled it and wrapped himself in the sheet, surrounding himself in the scent and senses of that night. It was easy to suddenly be aroused by it; to suddenly find himself grinding slightly against the sheet, his pulse accelerating as he remembered Tony’s body against him, as clear as if Tony were there, except-- colder, for a lack of the older teenager’s presence.

He imagined Tony right there with him, wrapped in the sheet with him. He imagined it, envisioned it, pulled the image of Tony against his skin, feeling little spots on the sheet responding. This pool of dried sweat. A smear of dried lubricant, with skin and other cells in it. The splattering of Tony’s seed, half-wiped away. These places were clear with resonance, and he reached for Tony, using them to extend himself, writhing against the sheet, pulling it tight over his cock to rub himself against it. He could feel-- or imagined he could feel-- the pressure of Tony’s body against his own, and he arched his back, mouth seeking Tony’s breath against the gold sheet. 

_More._ He needed more. He had to give more, to get what he needed. 

His cock ached already. 

He wrapped an arm around the outside of the sheet, as if wrapping it around Tony’s back, and dragged his nails down the outside. He could feel wounds opening on his own back, like reciprocating nails, and he scratched again, opening more, the blood soaking into the gold sheet and smearing as he rocked his hips against the taught fabric, reaching, pulling, anchoring, all of those tiny smears of Tony’s fluids searingly hot where they touched his skin but it felt _good_ , so _good_ , and his back hurt but that wasn’t bad either, it was still bleeding-- 

Moaning, his hips bucked against the fabric, against his image of Tony, the phantom feeling of the other teenager pressed against him and wanting, wanting that turned into needing that turned into demanding, and he was pulling Tony across deserts and cities and oceans back into his bedroom, to the safety of the island, the safety of his arms--

He orgasmed, and felt like every single particle of air in his lungs had been stolen, or he had been hit in the chest by a truck. He struggled to fill his lungs, even as he continued to come, his body performing still what his manipulations had set his course to, and when finally he managed to get air into his lungs it was hot, and dry, and tasted like metal. 

The sheet was hot now on his skin, almost too hot to bear. But his limbs were heavy, exhausted in a way not even sex so far had made him, dragged down by he wasn’t sure what. He tried to pull the sheet away, to untangle himself, but he struggled to find the edge. He laid in it for several minutes longer, just trying to breathe, to get some strength, before he managed at last to find the edge of the sheet, and pull it away from his body. It was hard to untangle himself from, like it had wrapped itself around him more and more as he had writhed. 

Finally, he pulled himself free. He tried to spread it, to look at what he knew would be bloodstains and more come-- to see if anything had changed-- but it wouldn’t spread all the way. He ran his hands along the edge, but they came all the way back around. 

The sheet had connected to itself. He couldn’t even find a seam. It was smeared in blood and semen and sweat, but it had made itself into a mobius strip, overly wide though it was. 

Loki didn’t understand. Did that mean that it had worked? He felt so exhausted. His bones had been filled with gold and it was too much effort to keep himself sitting up. He laid back down on his bed, pulling his comforter up over himself, and balling up the strange sheet in his arms, and contemplated only for a few moments before sleep dragged him under.


	5. just tell me we'll try

There was an odd sort of ringing in his ears. The tone was loud, and high-pitched enough that it set his teeth on edge, like nails on a chalkboard without the variation in sound that would allow him to shiver it off. 

He could see his mother’s concerned face, watching him, and his father’s mouth moving, telling him more. But he couldn’t hear them. Spontaneously, the nerves behind his forehead exploded into pain, and there were strange spots in his field of vision. They danced sluggishly, black ballerinas in lead pointe shoes, the spots merging with each other and dividing in larger and larger globs, and then there was a hand on his, big and warm and squeezing. 

His brother’s voice cut through the ringing that dominated his ears. 

“-gotta breathe here,” Thor said, though his voice was not very loud. Not louder than the ringing. Not louder than Odin’s words, stamped on his consciousness, the very forms of the words creating that keening that had his brain responding with agony. 

_Kidnapped by insurgents._

Kidnapped by insurgents.

**Kidnapped.**

A rush of air filled his lungs, and there was a different screaming now in his head, except it was outside of his head too, and suddenly Thor’s arms were around him but Loki wasn’t sure why except that it was keeping his arms from moving, and Odin had stood, he wasn’t talking any more, and Frigg’s hand moved to his face--

\-------------------

“We knew it was a possibility,” Frigg said, as though trying to temper the-- unsteadiness in the room. Thor was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed over his broad chest, not looking up them, but obviously standing guard, listening. Odin was in his chair, a broad, deep leather thing well worn by the number of men of his family who had taken it for theirs over the decades. He was deep in thought, his eye focused in the middle distance. 

Frigg continued to speak. “We were fairly certain at adoption what lineage he had.” It was calm, but concerned. She was still attempting to temper the tension her eldest son brought to the room with his concern, but she spoke as if discussing it with her husband. “I think we can take this confidently as confirmation, so we can proceed from there--”

“What lineage are you even talking about?” Thor asked, agitated. He’d never heard this thrown around; his parents had never talked about where Loki might have come from. Loki was always theirs. Never anything but theirs. He didn’t want that to change. 

Odin looked up at his son, and brought a hand up to stroke his beard. He was pensive still. “Finnish witch-saints,” he replied, deep voice quiet, as if to not disturb the one sleeping upstairs. “They are not famous because trials in the mid-seventeenth century suppressed many of them, and enough died or chose to not have children that they became very uncommon.” 

Thor frowned. The colloquial terms for lineages of quantic manipulators were derogatory still, so to hear his father refer to his brother as a witch-saint was... jarring. Colloquially, he and his parents were referred to as godchildren. It was semantics, really; everyone did the same thing, just-- with different methods that worked the best for them, or with different concentrations of natural ability. 

A witch-saint. He didn’t even know what that would mean, but he could read his mother’s face enough to know his brother’s life would not be so clear-cut as it had been. The lineage meant something specific. 

“Tell me,” he said. 

Frigg looked to her husband, ready to answer the question, but not particularly wanting to. 

“They are known to be possessive,” Odin said. “The positive aspect of this was called _vidskepelse_ , the benevolent magic a witch-saint used to keep the object of their possessiveness safe and happy. Should their obsession turn sour, however, they have been said to be able to reflexively invert all of the blessings they have brought into curses. There is not a word for that; to give it a word invites it.” 

Frigg had her face turned up, in the direction of her adopted son’s room. “It’s going to be our job to keep him from turning sour,” she said. “I would not be surprised if... if Tony’s departure upset him.”

“Then we have to remind him why he likes Tony,” Thor said. “If he can reflexively invert energy work--”

“The sheet,” Frigg said quietly. “It was powerful protection work.”

“Exactly,” Thor said. He looked at Odin, as though his father had some answer, but the patriarch was quiet, stroking his beard still. 

The silence stretched.

“He must decide for himself,” Odin rumbled at length. “We cannot obligate him, and to do so tempts the inverse of _vidskepelse_. We have to trust he has compassion enough to understand the power of his position.”

“You’re not going to tell him?” Thor was slightly incredulous. It had been an unspoken truth that Loki would never be referred to as ‘other’ by the family, or the fact he was adopted be colored at all by the idea of ‘other’. Telling him he was something other than a godchild-- that would make him other. 

“He has a right to know,” Frigg said, and Odin nodded in agreement. 

“He has the responsibility of his ability as a quantic manipulator,” Odin said. “His right to know is intrinsic to his responsibility to not work against... anyone.”

Odin had been a powerful voice in the public perception of quantic manipulators. When research in particles began to become easier with more powerful microscopes, and particle theories began to emerge that involved quantum mechanics, Odin had been connected quite fortuitously to a very public research firm. He had been able to shape the early discussion of quantic manipulators as people who had a powerful ability to think positively and directly affect reality. Picking up on his lead, many other quantic manipulators in public forums echoed him, and they were able to avoid a modern witch hunt by framing quantics-- called priests, saints, miracle-workers, and witches-- as regular people who used their abilities to improve their lives and the lives of people around them.

Of course the skeptics dragged out all of the nasty, difficult people who flaunted their power in negative ways. It didn’t last long; all of the negative workers who came forward were crushed. The fear of being hunted by non-quantic manipulators was enough to drive quantics to destroy the ones among them that were a risk to their public image. 

Odin desperately did not want his adopted son to be among that number. Selfishly, it wasn’t just his desire to see his son happy and thriving; if it became widely known that Loki Odinsson was capable of, and willing, to “curse”, it could undo much of the work he had done. 

Frigg knew this. But Thor did not. It was important that the brothers continued to be brothers.

“When he wakes,” Frigg said quietly. “We’ll have dinner, and explain it to him.”

\-------------------

The interviewer smiled at Loki, in a way that Loki imagined the interviewer thought was supportive, but he could read only as pitying. 

“If you could say anything to Tony Stark’s captors right now,” the interviewer said, his voice dripping in affected gentleness. “What would it be?”

Loki’s eyes found the camera that was filming at the moment, making direct contact. He’d been warned not to do it, but this was a live broadcast, and he knew they wouldn’t switch cameras once he made the direct eye contact.

“Don’t make him have to find a way out on his own,” he purred, voice dangerous. “And don’t make me come for him.”

The interviewer was quiet for a moment, uncomfortable, until Loki broke eye contact with the lens, and turned his bright green eyes back to the makeup-caked talking head. 

“Well, thank you so much for coming on Good Morning America,” he said, unable to conceal his nervousness. “We hope this will come to a quick, peaceful resolution, and get Mr. Stark home soon. Thank you, Mr. Odinson.” 

He knew he was being shooed off the set, and took his time anyway. He’d broken rules, and knew he was going to get an earful about it. 

He washed his face in the bathroom of the studio, getting that nasty-smelling television makeup off of his face so he could breathe again properly. He wiped his face with the thin paper towel and stood up, patting at his eyes, still able to feel it. 

Odin was scowling slightly at him in the mirror. Loki hadn’t heard him come in, but it wasn’t surprising. He sighed, knowing what was coming, and turned to face his father. 

“You know the rules about making threats, Loki,” Odin grumbled, not quite a growl.

“I know. I’m not going to _do_ anything, Dad.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you are or not. You just threatened a terrorist organization on national television in practically the same breath as outing yourself as a quantic. Even if you aren’t making us a target of said terrorist faction, you are making a threat, as a quantic, in front of the nation. That doesn’t help us.”

Odin had a point, and Loki had the grace to look sheepish about it. 

“I just want him safe,” he said quietly. “I want him home. I just--” he opened his hands, and shrugged, unable to find the words. 

He didn’t need to. Odin understood. He pulled his son into a great bear hug, and held him for a long time. Loki didn’t cry, but the hug... helped. Knowing that Odin was there for him, even when he was doing stupid things... on national television. Even if he wasn’t a godchild. Even if he was a witch-saint. Even if he was other-- Odin loved him. 

He needed to know.

Odin let Loki go, and ruffled his dark hair with a half-smile. “Just promise me something,” he said. Loki nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid. Get through your senior year, even if he’s not here. Graduate, and we can figure out the rest of it from there. There are a lot more options open to us once you’re considered adequately trained. I know, and your mother knows, and everyone who knows you, they know you have exquisite control. But that stupid paper proves it to the world. Intention is everything with our kind. And even more so with yours.” 

“So I can’t go gallivanting off to Afghanistan over winter break on a hunt?” Loki half-smiled. It was a joke, but he wanted to so badly. 

It had been two and a half months since the news had come, and Loki was getting ready to go back to school. They’d finally learned the name of the organization that had taken Tony, and that was what had prompted Loki to agree to appear on national television as a ‘childhood friend’ of the famous missing prodigy. He would have to go back to school, soon, while Tony would be missing his second year of college. Sure, Tony could make it up-- he was Tony. If he made it back. He had to make it back.

The only upside was this: In two and a half months, nothing had deteriorated. Loki could feel it, vaguely, just outside of his reach, like that goddamn equation had been until he managed to get it broken down easier in his brain. Ephemeral. But Tony was still alive. He was still, so far as Loki could sense, whole. And as long as that didn’t change-- there was hope, right?

Odin just squeezed his son’s shoulder, and got him back to the limousine.


End file.
